<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Here, Now by onionrings_andhoneymustard</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26924815">Here, Now</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/onionrings_andhoneymustard/pseuds/onionrings_andhoneymustard'>onionrings_andhoneymustard</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Carlos is really only mentioned in passing, Fluff, M/M, Slice of Life</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 02:15:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>409</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26924815</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/onionrings_andhoneymustard/pseuds/onionrings_andhoneymustard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>T.K. feels an almost-painful sensation in his chest. Like his heart has been filled to the brim with emotion it can't hold, and is spilling over. And as it washes over him, he thinks, Oh. <em>Oh.</em> Because he is here, now.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Carlos Reyes/TK Strand</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>58</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Here, Now</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>When struggling, it can be hard to believe that things will improve or that you will one day wake up in a life you're content with. And this fic is dedicated to the idea - to the promise - that it will, and you will.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Looking back, T.K. can't pinpoint when things changed. There was no big "aha!" moment; no definitive before and after; no sign from the universe saying, <em>Pay attention, kid - your life is about to change</em>.</p><p>All he knows is this:</p><p>He wakes up one morning - suddenly, as though a switch has been flipped and rendered him conscious. He's lying flat on his back, sunlight slipping through the gaps in the curtains and sliding across the bed like melted butter. His back aches in that way it does when he's slept so deeply he hasn't moved in far too long; he stretches his legs out, feels the delicious pull of it through his calves and thighs and hips.</p><p>T.K. is rarely the first to wake; it feels special and significant, and smells like cinnamon. Carlos is beside him, face turned away as he snores softly. His fingers are curled into T.K.'s pajama pants and every so often, his fingers flex in his sleep, giving a little tug to the fabric - a subconscious reminder of, <em>I'm here! you're here! we are here together!</em> It fills T.K. with a deep fondness, and he sends Carlos the smile he reserves for precious, private moments.</p><p>When the grip relaxes enough, T.K. slips out of bed and pads downstairs to the kitchen. The steady humming of the refrigerator provides a dull soundtrack as he putters around - feeding the fish and making coffee, preparing a cup to drink on the back patio.</p><p>It's already pleasantly warm when he takes a seat at the table, holding the mug in both hands. He takes slow sips and watches the world wake up.</p><p>The sky is bright blue, the clouds mere wisps, and as he sits there - accepting the promise of a new day - T.K. feels an almost-painful sensation in his chest. Like his heart has been filled to the brim with emotion it can't hold, and is spilling over. And as it washes over him, he thinks, Oh. <em>Oh.</em></p><p>Because he is here, now. He's here in the life he had so desperately wanted to fast-forward to when he was in the thick of it - the darkness and brambles and pain. He's here, and he's alive and happy and safe. The realization is a little overwhelming, and for a second he can't breathe. But he's here, now - and as he gulps in a fresh breath of air, he's so grateful to be.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>